


Nature Versus Nurture

by MX_Caulfield



Category: Glee, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Glee - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MX_Caulfield/pseuds/MX_Caulfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian invites his dad to Regionals. After the performance, Sebastian has some questions; questions only his dad can answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nature Versus Nurture

Sebastian snuck away from his fellow Warblers. Normally he would have loved to bask in the afterglow of a performance, but tonight he had more important matters to attend to. Luckily, his group’s new friendship with New Directions was keeping them occupied. Sebastian noiselessly crept backstage and out the side door of McKinley’s auditorium.

As soon as Sebastian’s expensive Italian shoes hit the pavement, a black Rolls Royce pulled around the corner and stopped directly in front of him. The back door opened and Sebastian quickly got in. Once he was seated, the car drove off.

Sebastian unbuttoned his blazer and leaned back against the car’s leather interior. “Did you enjoy the performance?” He asked the man sitting across from him.

The man was large. Broad shouldered and tall, even in the large back seat of the custom made luxury vehicle, he was still imposing. “I did,” he replied as he ran his hand over his blonde buzz cut.

“I sure hope so,” Sebastian said as he procured a bottle of Chardonnay from the cooler hidden in his armrest. “I could feel your cross hairs on me throughout the entire performance.” He popped the bottle and poured a generous serving into a long stemmed glass.

The man shook his head. “You drink alcohol like its mother’s milk,” he admonished.

“And who’s fault is that?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow before taking a long sip of white wine.

“You can blame your father for that one,” the man pulled back the sleeves of his black v-neck thermal and leaned back. “You really felt my cross hairs?”

Sebastian squinted his green eyes incredulously. “You were positioned on the westward balcony. Your sight never wavered from the Dalton emblem on my blazer.”

The man smiled. “What kind of gun?” Laugh lines formed at the edges of his blue eyes.

“A Remington 700,” Sebastian answered as he refilled his glass. “Were you planning on taking me out if I made any mistakes?”

“You sound like your father,” he replied. The tall man leaned forward and took the glass from Sebastian. From this close, Sebastian could see the inscription of the dog tags hanging from the man’s neck.

Moran

Sebastian

The rest of the his information had been meticulously blacked out.

“Must you be such a dad?” Sebastian scowled as the older Sebastian poured the contents of the glass out the window.

“It’s my job,” Sebastian Senior replied. “My favorite job. So, second place,” he said, redirecting the conversation to the night’s performance.

Sebastian shrugged. “We tried our best,” he looked out the window. His green eyes reflected back at him by the tinted glass. “New Directions deserved the win.”

Sebastian Senior’s face remained impassive. “That doesn’t sound like you,” he said neutrally. “I saw that Rachel Berry girl out there. Thought you were gonna blackmail her into dropping out.”

Sebastian turned his attention to his dad and looked him straight in the eyes. “There was a change in plans.”

Sebastian Senior nodded. “You never invited your father or me to your performances before,” he said, getting down to business. “You said you wanted to talk.”

Sebastian sat up straight and ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. “I want you to tell me about the woman who gave birth to me.” He kept his eyes on his dad; watching for any signs of emotion. There was none.

The older Sebastian scratched his head. “This is sudden.” He pursed his lips. “You never seemed interested before.”

Sebastian remained quiet and waited for his dad to continue.

“I’ll tell you. Don’t think I’m going behind your father’s back though,” Sebastian Senior said. “We already agreed that if you ever asked, I’d be the one to tell you about it. I’ll still tell him you asked.”

Sebastian nodded. His green eyes were hardened with conviction.

Sebastian Senior closed his eyes, as if he were picturing the story floating back to the surface of his mind. “About eighteen years ago…”

…

Jim Moriarty lay on the plush king sized bed of the expensive penthouse he and his partner, Sebastian Moran were staying in. It was the home base to their most recent job. They had assassinated some foreign prince while he visited London. Now the city was in an uproar and the British Royal Family had an international crisis on their hands. It had been fun, but that had been almost an hour ago. “I’m bored,” Moriarty whined.

Sebastian stood in the adjacent room. He was packing the few belongings they had brought for the job into suitcases. As a rule, they traveled light while on assignment. Sebastian was allowed a duffel bag for his clothes, mostly thermal shirts and whatever designer jeans Moriarty had bought for him that season, and a carrying case for whatever sniper riffle he he had chosen for the job. Jim, was allowed one suitcase for his Alexander McQueen suits, another for shoes and ties, and a carrying case for his laptop, iPod, and other gadgets.

“I could find us a new job,” Sebastian called as he took one of Jim’s suits from the closet and placed it neatly in a suitcase. “We could stir up a revolution in Uganda or stay here in London to give Sherlock a hard time.”

Jim flounced into the room and threw himself onto the couch. Sebastian rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s melodrama. “I want something exciting. Sherlock and Watson have gotten stale and it wouldn’t be particularly difficult to start a revolution in Uganda.”

Sebastian stood and turned towards Moriarty. “Keep rolling around like that and you’ll wrinkle your suit.” He pushed the career criminal’s legs off the couch and took a seat next to him. “Your boredom makes me nervous. Think something up. We’ll do it.”

Moriarty flipped over so that his head now lay on Sebastian’s lap. “Whatever I decide, you’ll do it with me?” His brown eyes looked into Sebastian’s.

His gaze was steady, but Sebastian could see the fear and insecurity behind it.

_No one ever gets me and no one ever will._

Sebastian ran a hand through Moriarty’s dark hair. “You name it. I’ll do it,” he said with a smile.

Moriarty’s lips formed into an involuntary smile. “Sebastian, I want a baby.” Sebastian opened his mouth, then closed it without saying a word. “I know it’s a bit…long term,” the career criminal said, leaping to his feet. “But it would certainly get rid of my boredom.” Moriarty looked as his silent partner and frowned. “You don’t want to do it. That’s fine, it was a silly idea. Let’s just start a revolution or…”

Sebastian stood and with his long legs covered the distance between him and Moriarty within seconds. He grabbed the career criminal’s face and pulled him into a kiss before he could say another word. When he pulled back, he smiled down at Moriarty. “You name it. I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Moriarty stepped away from Sebastian and pulled his Blackberry from out of his suit jacket. His tone was calculating, but he couldn’t hide the look of relief and gratitude on his face.

Sebastian nodded and started talking plans "Adoption? Can’t adopt legally. Orphanages don’t have the best security though.”

“I was thinking a surrogate,” Moriarty replied as he made plane reservations from his phone. “Nurture can only go so far. I figure the kid should have at least one of our superior genes.” Moriarty picked up his suitcases and walked towards the door. “I’m off to Paris. I’ll text you when I find a suitable surrogate.” He left without saying another word.

Sebastian continued to stand even after Moriarty left. “A baby. Never would have guessed Jim was the paternal type,” he said with a shake of his head.

…

Sebastian sat alone on a London rooftop. It had been a month since he and Moriarty discussed having a baby. To keep himself busy, he started taking low key assassination jobs. He placed his cross hairs between the eyes of his latest target. His finger grazed the trigger as he readied himself to fire. Then his phone went off.

_You’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by, a smooth criminal._

He pulled the phone from his back pocket and looked at the name. Moriarty. He pulled his gun back, allowing his target to escape, and answered the phone. “Where?”

“Paris,” The sound of heavy traffic could be heard from over the line. “I’m at the Arc de Triomphe.” He sounded cheerful, almost giddy. “I found the perfect surrogate. How soon can you make it here?”

Sebastian dismantled his rifle with one hand and held his phone in the other. “An hour,” he said as he made his way across the roof. “Will you still be at the Arc?”

“No, no, I’m done here,” Moriarty replied. “I sent you the address of a little cafe. Meet me there.” The line went quiet.

Sebastian got a text seconds after Moriarty ended the call. He smiled as he climbed down the fire escape ladder. Once he reached the ground, he exited the alley and walked onto the main street. He saw his target getting into a limo across the street. _“Today’s your lucky day. Jim Moriarty just saved your life.”_ He hailed a taxi.

A driver noticed the large man and stopped for him. “Where to?” The cabbie asked as Sebastian got into the back seat.

“Heathrow airport.”

…

Sebastian and Moriarty sat at a tiny table on the sidewalk in front of an adorably quaint cafe. When Sebastian walked around the corner and saw Moriarty sitting at the table, he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face.

“How’ve you been?” Moriarty asked as he stirred cream into his tea. “I hope you’ve been keeping busy this past month.” He wore a pair of faded blue 7 brand jeans and a grey v-neck depicting the cartoon character, Asterix.

“I’ve been doing what I do best,” Sebastian replied. He picked up his black coffee, which had been waiting for him when he arrived, and took a long sip.

Moriarty smiled. “Here,” he handed Sebastian his Blackberry. “It’s a file on the surrogate. Twenty-three year old Cantrelle Bonami.”

Sebastian took the phone and scrolled through the file. The girl, Cantrelle, was pretty. Not beautiful, her looks were more understated. She had healthy looking brown hair and a lithe body. Her face was charming if a bit plain. Her most striking feature was her eyes. They were green, the most brilliant green Sebastian had ever seen. The closest comparison he could come up with were the emeralds he and Sebastian had gotten as a ransom for some lesser member of Russian royalty. “Where’d you find her?”

“I was at the ballet.” Sebastian pulled a wad of gum from his mouth and placed it on the rim of his cup. “Swan Lake. She wasn’t a lead role, but something about her dancing made her stand out. She had more raw talent than anyone else on stage, including the Odette. Did I mention that her real last name is Bonaparte? She changed it when she turned of age, but I’m almost positive she’s a direct descendent of Napoleon.” He sounded thrilled that his child would possibly possess the same genes as the infamous Emperor of France.

Sebastian nodded and handed Moriarty his phone. “Did you approach her? Offer her money?” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs under the table. They brushed against Moriarty’s. Moriarty didn’t seem to mind.

The career criminal laughed. It was a quick _ha_. Then he took a sip of his tea. “No, I’d prefer to do this the old fashion way. I found the location of her favorite bar, I trust you saw that in her file. She goes to this bar after every Saturday night performance. I want you to seduce her.”

Sebastian sat up straight. “Seduce her?”

Moriarty rolled his eyes. “Yes. My cunning can be passed down by nurture, but your physical attributes are genetic. You’re a perfect example of a physical alpha male.” He took another sip of his tea.

Sebastian blushed slightly at the compliment, but he refused to get sidetracked. “You want me to go to this bar, seduce this woman, and sleep with her?”

Moriarty placed his tea cup on the saucer. “Yes, Sebastian. That’s how people woo.” He pulled a few euros from his pocket and placed them on the table. “Let’s get you to the hotel. You’ll need to freshen up before your big performance tonight.” He got up from the table and walked briskly down the sidewalk.

Sebastian took a few seconds to follow, but managed to catch up with his long strides. “How was the ballet?” He asked, bringing the conversation back to more normal territory.

Moriarty smiled up at the sniper. “Fun. I’ll be sure to bring you next time.”

…

The events of the night became a blur. Moriarty went to the bar first and sat at a back booth. Sebastian came fifteen minutes later and sat at the bar. Cantrelle came thirty minutes later. By the time the dancer finished her sixth glass of wine she was ready to take Sebastian, he was going by Hans tonight, back to her flat. The only thing that made the mission bearable was that Cantrelle wasn’t a lightweight. Sebastian would have felt disgusting taking advantage of a woman who couldn’t handle more than three glasses of wine. Sebastian had flirted with women before. He had slept with quite a few of them too, but it was different when Jim was watching from a few feet away.

Sebastian took the ballet dancer home and bedded her. They didn’t use protection. Sebastian had insisted on it and she hadn’t been hard to convince. That sixth glass of wine had really done her in.

Once the deed was done, Sebastian pulled on his clothes and crept out of the apartment. He left Cantrelle sleeping on her belly. Moriarty was waiting in the shadow of a building across the street. “Only two hours? You normally take your time.”

Sebastian walked over to Moriarty. His hands were deep in his pockets and clenched into fists. “With you. With you I take my time.” He didn’t sound angry. He never did when he was talking to Moriarty, even when he talked about the wars he had been in and the horrible scenes that still plagued his dreams. He sounded tired and sad.

Moriarty, realizing he had been insensitive, reached out for Sebastian’s hand. “We’ve got the next nine months to ourselves,” he said. “Let’s go back to the hotel. You can take all the time you’d like.”

Sebastian’s lips formed into a small smile. He reached out and took Moriarty’s hand.

…

Sebastian sat on the rooftop of a building directly across from a Parisian hospital. It had been nine months since he had bedded Cantrelle Bonami. “It’s almost out,” he spoke into a headset as he focused his sights on a particular window in the hospital.

“Roger that,” Moriarty chimed on the other end of the line. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening. How soon do you think I can start teaching him about the finer points of crime?”

“He’s gotta learn how to talk first,” Sebastian mumbled into his headset. He smiled. “He’s out. Move in three seconds.”

Inside the hospital room, Cantrelle Bonami gave one final push.

“You did it. Congratulations, it’s a beautiful baby boy.” The doctor held the baby up for his mother to see. “Nurse, come cut the umbilical cord.” The nurse moved forward to do the honors, but was beaten to it.

Two bullets shot through the window. One hit the umbilical cord. The other hit Cantrelle Bonami’s frontal lob.

In the few seconds of chaos that followed, no one noticed the extra doctor entering the room. No one noticed as the man took the baby from the real doctor’s hands, swaddled him in a blue blanket, and carried him out of the room.

…

Five minutes later, Sebastian and Moriarty were in the back of a Rolls Royce on their way to a waiting, private jet.

“He’s beautiful,” Sebastian said as he looked at his son. He dangled his dog tags over the newborn, like a pair of keys.

“He’s strong,” Moriarty added. “Like his father.” He was still dressed in the scrubs and white coat he had used as a disguise to sneak into the hospital and pick up his son. The baby started to whine and squirm in his father’s arms. “What’s wrong with him?” Moriarty looked at Sebastian. His eyes were filled with worry.

Sebastian laughed. “He’s just hungry,” he said as he reached into a bag and pulled out a plastic bottle. “We forgot formula.” He rummaged through the baby bag, but found nothing that could be put into the bottle.

Moriarty passed the baby to his partner. “Hold on, I have an idea.” He reached into the cooler in the armrest and pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay. He popped the bottle and poured the contents into the baby bottle. “Hand him over.”

Sebastian shook his head. “You are not giving our newborn son a bottle of wine.” He almost laughed at the absurdity of Moriarty’s suggestion.

Moriarty pouted. “Well, if you have any better ideas, feel free to shout them out.” He shrugged. “If anything, the alcohol will put him to sleep.”

Sebastian sighed and passed the baby over to Moriarty. “Just this once.”

The career criminal shushed, both his partner and his son. He lifted the baby’s head and placed the nipple of the bottle between his waiting lips.

Sebastian expected the baby to protest the white wine, but he sucked down the liquid greedily. “He’s drinking it like mother’s milk,” he said in disbelief. “He needs a name.”

Moriarty seemed completely at peace as he fed their newborn son. Sebastian had never seen his partner look any happier. “Sebastian,” Moriarty said quietly. “Sebastian Smythe Moriarty-Moran.”

...

“That’s how it happened,” Sebastian Senior said as he finished the story.

Sebastian took a moment to process the story. “I’m not even surprised that my first drink was wine.”

The older Sebastian looked at his son and smiled. “You’re not mad that I killed your mother?”

The Warbler shrugged. “Father is enough of a mom. If I had two, I’d probably go insane.” He looked into his dad’s eyes and for a moment, his words were completely sincere. “Thanks for telling me.”

Sebastian Senior nodded. “No problem Jr.” The car stopped. Outside the window, the two Sebastians could see a small private jet. “Why now?” The older Sebastian asked as he got out of the car.

Sebastian looked up at his dad and smiled. “I’ve been thinking about my life lately. I’m going through a change,” he looked down, suddenly abashed. “I figured I should know where I come from before planning where I want to go next.”

The older Sebastian smiled proudly. “I think you’re going in the right direction.”


End file.
